The Things We Need
by anilkex
Summary: Ficlet from an LJ prompt. A sick Dean needs his laundry done. Immediately. Fluff and more fluff with a twinge of awwww. Pre-series. Rated K .


_**A/N: So this is a fill from an LJ Comment Fic Meme. Total fluff piece with a dash of weight. It's not a secret that I love the Hurt/Comfort route, and this fits right in there. Aside from the money drabbles, this is the shortest thing I've ever written. :) Prompt at the end.**_

_**Disclaimers: Blah blah blah own nothing blah blah blah**_

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Dean dumped the heavy bag of dirty laundry onto the sorting table. He stifled a sneeze against his wrist, wincing as his head throbbed from the pressure. He sluggishly shoved the clothes into some machines and fed them a handful of quarters.

Rubbing his eyes, Dean wearily dropped into a rickety chair and wiped his nose, mentally calculating when the laundry would be done. He wondered if Bobby knew a spell that could make the machines work faster.

Not that it mattered. Dad wasn't getting him for ninety minutes, so laundry done early wasn't helpful.

Still. It'd _definitely_ be cool.

Dressed in only a t-shirt and jeans, Dean shivered violently as he pressed a handful of toilet paper against his nose. With a pathetic sniffle, he shrank back into the corner, trying to blend with the classy laundry decor.

It didn't take long for the tickling in his nose to start. He closed his eyes in resignation, giving up the fight before it even began. His shoulders trembled with every sneeze, and he gasped at their intensity. Right then, he realized the folly of bringing a hastily grabbed wad of motel toilet paper instead of a box of tissues.

He fumbled for his bandana as his breath hitched yet again.

But he wasn't fast enough.

He clumsily cupped his face in his palms just in time to catch a double. Satisfied that he was done for the moment, Dean gruffly yanked the bandana out of his back pocket and blew his nose. He sighed, and leaned back once again.

For the remainder of the wash cycle, Dean sat shivering in his corner. Sneezes harsh enough to make his eyes water ripped from his body. His nose quickly became raw from the constant wiping, and he wasn't surprised when all the sneezing took a toll on his throat as well.

A loud beeping pulled him to his feet with a groan. Dean shuffled over and dumped the wet clothing into the industrial dryers that lined an entire wall of the facility. He sneezed desperately as the dusty lint traps irritated his already sensitive sinuses, figuring that an allergic reaction on top of this crappy cold fit the kind of month he'd been having.

Once the dryers were fed and the soap stowed away, he sagged once again into the corner.

Dean pulled his knees up, sandwiching his arms between them and his chest in a feeble attempt to ward off the chills that have wracked his body since morning.

No such luck.

His rapidly rising fever blanketed his forehead in a thin layer of sweat. After wiping it dry with a shaky hand, he roughly sneezed yet again. Holding the bandana close to his face, Dean rested his head against his knees, figuring he could close his eyes for a short while.

His head hurt. His throat burned. His nose itched.

_His heart ached._

The next thing Dean knew, someone was gently shaking his shoulder.

"Dean..._hey_…" John stood over him, eyes filled with the same worry he's carried for the last month. Dean sees it every time John looks at his son.

Dean grunted a greeting, sneezing violently as he unfolded from his pretzel-shaped cocoon.

He noticed, with a touch of panic, that his dad already packed the clean laundry into the Impala. Before he could say anything, John quietly handed him something soft and still warm from the dryer.

Dean stared at it for a second, then flashed him a grateful look before shrugging into it. With a knowing smile, John briefly rested his hand against Dean's forehead. "C'mon kiddo...time to go."

Dean nodded, and followed his father into the car. Once settled in the front seat, he sneezed softly into the crook of his arm, the soft fabric caressing his sore nose. Pulling the sleeves over his hands, Dean burrowed further into Sam's old hoodie, finally warm.

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_**Prompt: One of the boys does laundry while he has a cold and is all shivery and sniffly and miserable for an hour and a half and then out come the warm hoodie and blanket and it's heaven.**_


End file.
